


The mislaid plans

by Tanacetum



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: A comedy of errors, AU-Taako and Davenport disappear with Barry, Gen, Lucretia pulls a new plan out of her ass in about three seconds, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21696640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tanacetum/pseuds/Tanacetum
Summary: Lucretia can do this alone: find the relics, restore the Light, defeat the Hunger. Even though, the moment Fisher's effects took hold, the Starblaster went down.Magnus and Merle will be fine. Barry, now a lich, will find Taako and Davenport and then…then she’ll at least know they’re safe. Unlike Lup.This doesn’t change anything. She still needs the Light. Whether they’re running or staying, the Light has to be whole.This changes everything. On her desk: forged correspondence between Barry and the Neverwinter University, looking forward to his arrival as a professor in less than a week. A map with a traveling route for wagons, annotated with notes in her spot-on rendition of Taako’s handwriting. The registration and manifest of a frigate for Davenport, one that should be leaving Waterdeep tomorrow. A single brochure for a town with a thriving crafts district that’s desperate to hire more talent, for Magnus.She looks at Merle and Magnus's unconscious forms and realizes she can't bear to lose the family she has left.***Lucretia's plans fall apart immediately and she makes some very different choices.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	The mislaid plans

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to distractedKat. The core of this premise was hers and we brainstormed this AU together.

Lucretia ran. Taako and Davenport are missing, Barry _died_ because of her, and she dragged what was left of her family onto the ship and ran like a coward. 

She lugged the boys out of the slushy hallway and onto the deck so she can keep an eye on them while she steers. It took some doing to get the ship airborne again, but she can fix anything after the year she spent hiding from the Judges’s people, and the ship limped its way out of the mud eventually. 

Merle’s unconscious body starts sliding across the deck as she banks the Starblaster. Where is she even going? Her plan’s in shambles. Barry could appear any moment, a furious lich heralded by torrents of red sparks. Barry could appear fragmented and blurred, wailing ethereally about Taako and Davenport’s corpses. 

They’d have to leave. This plane could never be home with half her family dead. Lucretia knows Lup wouldn’t forgive her for giving up, but Taako would talk her around. Her family would reappear in ribbons of light and they’d have a fresh start in a new world. Right now, they don’t even know about Lucretia’s plan. She has time to figure out what she’ll tell them. 

Except no, that clock is ticking down until Barry flies back to the Starblaster’s crash site. Until Magnus and Merle wake up, confused and disoriented. Gods, what if they don’t wake up? What if she took too much? _Where is she going?_

Lucretia sets the autopilot to fly in a straight line as fast as possible, with the sails torn ragged from splinters of ice. They’re flapping uselessly, the air resistance is slowing the whole ship. She has to stow them. She unwinds the ropes and leaves them trailing limp like flags. Merle slides dangerously towards the railing. She dashes to him, remembers the rope in her hand, and drags him back to tie to a mast. Magnus next, secured by a single wrist. She can’t drag him without Bigby’s Hand, and there go the torn sails again, throwing their course off. She dashes back to the wheel. _Where is she going?_

She can do this. She had to do this once with _everyone_ dead. Magnus and Merle will be fine. Barry will find Taako and Davenport and then…then she’ll at least know they’re safe. 

This doesn’t change anything. She still needs the Light. Whether they’re running or staying, the Light has to be whole. 

This changes everything. On her desk: forged correspondence between Barry and the Neverwinter University, looking forward to his arrival as a professor in less than a week. A map with a traveling route for wagons, annotated with notes in her spot-on rendition of Taako’s handwriting. The registration and manifest of a frigate for Davenport, one that should be leaving Waterdeep tomorrow. A single brochure for a town with a thriving crafts district that’s desperate to hire more talent, for Magnus. 

She’s most proud of the work she did for Merle. A bare handful of times before, they’ve found planes with eerie similarities to their own. Once, she met a teenaged girl with her own mother’s name and ambitions. On this plane, for Merle, she found a clan of dwarves by the sea. They’re Panites, like his lost family. They’re even known as the Coralhards, which might not be right, but she’s stuck with what he told her. There are Rockseekers, like his cousins. And if the names don’t match up exactly—well, it’s Merle. He’ll never notice. 

She should cast Sleep on the boys. But what if she needs to cast to move them again? She can’t leave Magnus on the deck—oh, hell, she can’t even get Merle back down the stairs into the hull safely by herself. Does Merle have potions tucked away in the infirmary somewhere, in case she slips and falls in the attempt? 

Her mental arithmetic is rendered moot by a dramatic groan behind her. “Oh, my aching head…” Merle whines. She whirls around to face him and jars the wheel. Cursing, she rights their course. “Hey! Hey lady,” Merle says. “Lu—ulllll. Ellllll? Anyway, that’s not important—why the heck am I tied up?!” 

“You’re…” Moment of truth. If she can’t get her story straight here and now, she has no hope of handling this mess. She rehearsed this, dammit. Well. A version of this where everything hadn’t already gone to shit. “You are…my bodyguard. I am indeed a Lady, capital “L”, and you and your…companion—” 

“You mean this lump?” Merle says, aiming a kick for Magnus that misses by a good two feet. Lucretia winces. “Never seen the guy before in my life! Why are we tied up?!” 

“Oh, I assure you that,” Lucretia starts. Then pauses. Her plan...was to scatter her family into new lives, where they could find happiness and thrive. 

They’re scattered already, by a force she doesn’t understand but can’t help but characterize as malicious. Barry’s dead for sure. On this plane, necromancy carries heavy penalties; their greatest fear until today was that Lup was incarcerated beyond their reach, by the goddess who polices such matters. That fate could befall him too. Taako and Davenport may be dead. She, the ornery dwarf staring her down, and Magnus’s somnolent sack of flesh might be all that’s left. 

She spent months preparing to cast them aside. Now, her resolve crumbles like Taako’s flaky baklava. 

“Tied. Up.” Merle repeats. “Ropes, knots, the whole shebang, and let me tell you, sis—this isn’t the right _ohm-bee-_ _yonc_ _é_ to make that fun.” 

Lucretia refuses to unpack that. “I…assure you that this man is actually a good friend of yours.” She gestures dramatically at Magnus to sell it, as if she hadn’t just stared into space for half a minute. “Um, and also, I didn’t want you to fall off the ship.” 

She checks the wheel and, haltingly, goes to untie him. She furrows her brow and glares when she realizes her knots are barely secure. “You couldn’t have gotten out of this?” 

“Nah,” he says, leaning heavily on the mast to stand. “Not until I knew the weird lady was okay with havin’ me up and about, and that you weren’t gonna blast my ass. Who are you, again?” 

“Gods, no, no ass-blasting. And my name…is not important,” she says. She can’t stand the thought of enduring another twenty years of him fumbling her name. Or of him saying “Lucretia” with the tone he uses for strangers. “You um, as I said, you’re my bodyguard.” 

“And this lump?” 

“He is _also_ my bodyguard. You are a team. We were in a catastrophic accident, we were flying when a huge ice storm—” 

“We were what?” Merle says, abruptly looking queasy. He casts his gaze around the ship and pitches on his feet. Lucretia catches his ribs with her forearm and helps him sink to the deck. “I don’t—don’t feel so great. Where are we?” 

She panics. Then she remembers that her carefully-redacted description of the Starblaster is currently dissolving to pulp in Fisher’s tank. Pan only knows what Merle’s able to make of his surroundings right now. “Um. It’s not important. We’re going to,” in a flash of brilliance, Lucretia shouts out her own greatest wish, “we’re going to see your family!” 

“My what?” Merle squints at her, then Magnus. “They aren’t here?” 

“N—no, they’re, they’re very close, though,” Lucretia’s mouth says, before her brain realizes that’s actually true. “We’re only a few hours’ flight from the Sword Coast. Your family, is from, uh—” She halts, hoping he’ll supply the name. He stares blankly at her. One of his beard hairs blows up into his nose and he sneezes. “Anyway. Your um, cousin clan, the Rockseekers, are in Leilon. Do you…remember visiting?” 

“Aw, of course I do!” Merle says, abruptly cheerful. “Good ol’ Gundam and his daddy, Cyprus. They all have names like…Nundro Rockseeker, and Tharden. Poor Tharden. He almost got eaten by a bear when I was a teen.” At the mention of bear-maulings, his smile widens. “It’s good to be going home!” 

“Um,” Lucretia says intelligently. “Yes, and, well, I don’t think I need to be worried about…bear attacks.” 

She rises smoothly to her feet. Merle slaps her knee. “Not with the two best bodyguards in the business, sis!” 

Behind Merle, Magnus abruptly flails like a fish, rope creaking around his lashed wrist. He flops over and groans. “Hey—why the heck am I tied up?” 

Taako’s not around to chase her away from his stash of blank gold coins, transmuted for emergencies. She leaves his jewelry alone; the gold he’ll forgive, but not crimes against his wardrobe. 

She leaves Magnus and Merle on the beach with their luggage for a few heart-stopping minutes while she searches for a place to stow the ship. She can’t allow Barry to find it, and her. 

She doesn’t have to venture far. A littoral cave provides the answer; the Starblaster’s shield does the trick, and it nosedives into the water, then up through the broad, shallow tunnel, and out onto the bank of a hidden grotto. She parks and drops anchor. Hopefully the cave’s entrance will remain submerged at low tide. She doesn’t have time to wait and find out, though, and knowing the type of cave she’s in gives her no clever way to escape. She’ll have to swim. 

Powering the ship down dissipates the shield. A shower of icy saltwater rains down on her head. She ties her shoes around her neck and throws herself off the deck. The moment before she breaches the water, she realizes that this is the first time in decades that the Starblaster’s been completely unmanned. 

The water hits her like a slap. The Starblaster’s silvery hull vanishes into inky black as she descends. Her lungs heave in her chest, battering her ribcage. She can’t see a thing. She doesn’t remember the tunnel being this deep, she doesn’t remember how long humans can hold their breath for. All she sees is black, black, black, but she’s sure she knows which way she’s going. Maybe her vision’s just fuzzed from oxygen deprivation. That’s a thing. 

Her muscles scream. Her lungs burn. She’s been hurt worse. Everyone is counting on her. She won’t take a breath and choke on seawater. 

She doesn’t; she comes to in Magnus’s arms, snotty and soaked through and shaking with chill. He’s soaked, too, and cradling her against his damp chest. “Holy shit, lady,” he says. “What happened to your boat? You were going to drown!” He jerks his chin towards Merle, hovering awkwardly at their side. “You’re lucky this guy spotted you!’ 

“I told you, kid, my name’s Merle.” 

Lucretia gasps herself dizzy and then struggles out of Magnus’s arms and attempts to evince poise. “Thank you,” she says, fastening the shreds of her dignity with the finesse of a staple gun. “I am glad,” that he saved her life. That she didn’t totally destroy the part of him that cares for her, “that you are continuing in your capacity as a most excellent bodyguard, despite your recent, traumatic, amnesia.” 

Magnus frowns at her. “…So I get paid, right?” 

Merle snorts. “Yeah, how much of this gold we’re schlepping around is for us?” 

“I can assure you that you’ll be well-compensated,” Lucretia says hurriedly. “We just need a new…base of operations first.” 

“A base of what now?” Magnus asks. 

“Operations. I think she’s taking us to a doctor,” says Merle. 

“Lodgings,” Lucretia supplies. “And, actually…seeing a doctor wouldn’t go amiss. Because of your, um, head injuries. That you sustained.” 

Merle winks at her and holds up a hand to his mouth, jerking a thumb at Magnus “That explains a lot about this guy.” 

“Both of us, jackass,” Magnus says. He frowns. “That sounds right. I don’t…remember how I got on the boat?” 

“It’s not important,” Lucretia says. “We were traveling on an, um, a quest of great import—” 

“Make up your mind!” Merle says. 

_“As I was saying_. We were traveling, and now we’re taking a break, out of concern for your injuries. We have enough funds to rent lodging for a while.” 

Magnus hefts a bag of gold and jangles it. Or tries to; its weight drags against the sand. “I’ll say! We have enough cash to buy the town.” 

Lucretia lets a smile play across her lips. “I don’t think that will be necessary, no. But it doesn’t hurt to make plans for later.” 

They don’t buy the town. They buy a small inn from a dwarven couple who were looking for an excuse to retire, their own adult children having settled in Neverwinter to raise their families. Each day that passes without any sign of baleful, red phantasms makes Lucretia weak with relief. Each night that passes without any sign of her family makes her thrash in the sheets, anxiety driving nails into her heart. 

She gets smarter. Her lies get better as she weaves a story for herself. She is the youngest lady of a wealthy house of Neverwinter. She names them Clio, and sticks to that name once she’s sure she isn’t mistakenly impersonating someone. Scorned by her family for her refusal to marry a wealthy, cruel suitor, she set out with her dowry to establish a charitable organization. One that can perform acts of benevolence for the benefit of all. 

The orc she encounters at the bar across the street from her inn one night gets the best version of this story. Lucretia, deep in her cups, waxes poetic on the lavish furnishings of her childhood manor home until the woman stops her with a firm hand on her shoulder. She realizes she was tipping off her stool. The woman is quite pretty; thick eyelashes set against brilliant green skin, cascades of thick black hair. 

“You are like _emeralds_ ,” Lucretia slurs. “What’s your name? I’m—I’m a writer, I can do you a poem. Heh. Do you.” 

“My name’s Killian,” the woman rumbles, with a voice like a soprano whale. But a pretty one. “And you’re like, _really_ drunk. Can I drop you off at home?” 

In the morning, Lucretia slouches down to the kitchen in her rumpled dress from last night, smelling like a distillery with the flu. The window is open. Magnus and Killian—oh no, she’s real, the woman of her literal dreams is actually real and thinks that Lucretia’s a ridiculous lying drunkard—are…shooting crossbow bolts at blocks of firewood in the yard. Concerning. 

But not so concerning that Lucretia can’t start the day with coffee. Gods, she deserves some coffee. She’s drinking directly from the pot when Merle swaggers in. 

Lucretia recognizes one of the dwarves on his heels—Gundren Rockseeker, who politely accepted the premise that Merle’s his long-lost cousin. The woman’s a mystery. Her beard is kempt and glossy, but chopped shorter than the style, and her hair’s twisted up into a bun and pinned under a thick headband. 

“Hekuba Roughridge,” she says, catching Lucretia’s stare. “And you must be Merle’s charge.” 

“Like I was saying, I guard the very important personage of this fine lady,” Merle says, puffing out his chest, and oh, oh no, he’s flirting. With…a woman, instead of a plant? Did her redactions do that? Did she underestimate the power of the Voidfish? 

“Nice to meet you,” Hekuba says, extending a hand. Lucretia extends the coffee pot. Lucretia puts the coffee pot down and shakes hands like someone who’s sober and healthy, no really. 

“Yes, nice to meet you as well. I am…Merle’s charge.” 

“Youngest daughter of the Clio family!” Killian calls in through the window. “ _The_ Neverwinter Clios, apparently.” 

Lucretia chokes on nothing. “Yes, quite,” she says. “I am…uh, presently hiring, to start a charitable organization.” She is sick of sleepless nights spent tormented by images of her missing family, and of circles of black glass and towns transformed into fused candy, of storms raging up and down the coast. She’s sick of poring over her copy of Magnus’s notes on the chalice and Davenport’s on the oculus, trying to unravel the potential fates of artifacts that could’ve rewritten existence itself. How can she hope to figure out what was normal for this plane before their arrival, in its history or lands or peoples? How will she know if time itself changes, or if something like an entire army pops out of nowhere? 

There’s no one left to tell her. No one else remembers the relics. 

It’s been two weeks. Magnus and Merle are doing better every day. Magnus is back to practicing his sword forms, muscle memory compensating for the static that still swallows too many of his thoughts. Merle’s been attending congregation with the local Panites. He says God talks to him and that he’s thinking of becoming a cleric. 

“Well, I’m not looking for work at the moment—I own the pearl farm in these parts, and it’s doing quite well,” Hekuba says, pausing to let Lucretia catch the thread of conversation again. “You might have better luck with Killian. She’s itinerant, she just blew into town.” 

“I’ve got to watch our local mining operations until my father comes home from Phandalin,” Gundren says. “I’m glad that you’re out to do good in our community. Let me know if there’s any way I can lend you a hand. And you’re always welcome at our Pan gatherings. I know we’re a bunch of dwarves, but don’t let that stop you.” 

“Yeah, don’t let that stop you. Tag along sometime,” Merle agrees, drifting closer to Hekuba. Lucretia glances between them. They’re looking at each other. 

This was what she wanted; for her family to move on, to find new homes and lives. She’ll have to devise a way to pull Magnus and Merle into her quest to find the relics. With Barry out there, hunting her with full knowledge of her betrayal—with the frailty of his sanity in lich form, the cracks that she’d seen widening since Lup’s disappearance—she needs to assemble the Light as quickly as possible. 

Lichhood is something Lup and Barry did to fundamentally alter their souls, something that carries over from plane to plane. Neither of them have ever lost their minds before. What if that’s permanent? What if the damage is irreversible? Would Taako have known? 

He needs help. She needs help. But, in the meantime—while she searches—she can encourage Magnus and Merle to find a little happiness, here. 

Things could still work out. If—if Taako and Davenport are alive, if Barry forgives her, if Lup can be found—maybe this will be home, after all. 

And, there’s always the meantime. 

“I’d hate to be a third wheel,” she says, winking at Merle. He grins and winks back. Hekuba flushes and twirls a strand of her beard around her finger. 

“Hey, can Killian third-wheel?” Magnus shouts in through the window, ever ready to crush the moment in a bear hug. “Are we hiring? Are we ready to kick off any big plans, Bosslady?” 

Upstairs, on her desk: Barry and Taako’s map of glassings. Old news clippings of mysterious disappearances and magical calamities. Interviews with the few travelers she’s met since settling in Leilon, any apparent gaps in the stories—details they can’t remember—highlighted and underlined. 

A smooth, pale oak staff, calling out with potent magic from under the ward abjuring its voice. 

“We’re not ready yet,” Lucretia says. “But, soon.” 

**Author's Note:**

> In the original plans for this AU, Team Barry-Taako-Davenport was going to pick up Julia and Angus and race Team Lucretia-Magnus-Merle-Killian for the relics. There would've been spy!Julia infiltrating the bureau, with Angus posing as her nephew, and a very tolerant Kravitz keeping a close eye on lich!Barry and his weird amnesiac friends (especially the hot elf).
> 
> Also, the Raven Queen would get the Animus Bell.
> 
> distractedKat's moved away from the TAZ fandom, but gave me permission to share this chapter as a one-shot. Leave a kudos if you enjoyed.
> 
> One last snippet:
> 
> “Were we still going to fool around, Magnus?” Julia asks, reaching up on tiptoes to get her arms around his neck from behind.
> 
> Magnus, hunched over his worktable, freezes against her. “Oh--shoot, Julia, I’m sorry--I’ve got wood glue all over my fingers.”
> 
> Julia sighs and drops her arms. “Can you take it off with a solvent?”
> 
> “No, it comes off by itself when it dries,” Magnus says, grinning sheepishly and rolling pills of glue between his fingers. “I’m really sorry--is it okay if I take a raincheck? Maybe for tomorrow afternoon?”
> 
> “It’s fine,” Julia laughs, stretching. She brings her arms up over her head, letting her blouse ride up and expose the soft curve of her stomach. Magnus’s eyes go wide and he swallows audibly. “Tomorrow sounds great, actually.” Satisfied, she turns to walk away.
> 
> “Wait, before you go--” Magnus asks, extending a rough cloth, “put some water on this for me?”
> 
> “Sure,” Julia says, grabbing it and heading towards the kitchen. “At least something around here is getting wet!”
> 
> Magnus laughs so hard that he’s still breathless when she comes back.


End file.
